


on the edge of glory (and my own trepidation)

by fraisage



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-13 22:16:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13580055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fraisage/pseuds/fraisage
Summary: Everything that could go wrong when meeting your (definitely, maybe) soulmate goes wrong when Harry meets Louis.Harry has the rest of his life to make sure everything goes right.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rosesatellites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosesatellites/gifts).



As far as one night stands go, this one is going pretty swimmingly.

Well, the room is swimming a little, anyway.

Harry’s really only a little drunk, definitely not enough to black out.

Whoever he’s managed to pull tonight, Lou-something, has attached himself like a limpet to his neck.

Maybe he should be worried about blood loss or something, those sharp little teeth seem strong enough to bite a carotid, but right now Harry only cares that there’s enough blood left for the only part that’s very vital to his present, and future satisfaction.

“L-Lou, c’mon, c’mon—,” is all he seems to be able to stutter out.

His lovely partner for the evening takes this as his cue to snake a tiny hand down into his pants, soft fingers stroking themselves just-so over his hard tip. It’s just the lightest brush of his fingers, but Harry’s so hard already it feels amplified times a hundred.

There’s a reason he loves (responsibly) pulling tiny (legal) boys the most, not the least because they’re the only ones who can always manage Harry’s requisition skinny jeans.

He also loves picking them up, which he proceeds to do. That trick always goes over well.

And this time’s no different, Lou really gets a kick out of it, now he’s got soft thighs wrapped around his waist and a voice in his ear, “Get on with it, fuck— “

Harry’s eighteen now and maybe he should be acting more responsibly. Including not fucking strangers against the wall in random apartments.

But actually, that’s definitely what he’s gonna do, okay, thanks.

What this means is that Harry’s pulling off the pants of the tiny pixie attached to him, one long finger already rubbing over his soft little hole, a chorus of whimpers and gasps and “ _ah_ , _ah_ , _ah_ ,” filling his ears.

The lube and condom Lou pulls out of Harry’s jeans seem fortuitous.

If only because he’s too drunk to remember having prepared them for this exact purpose.

Finding someone who can roll a condom on him while hanging on with the sheer strength of his thighs is the real miracle here, just so Harry can focus on sinking slick fingers into Lou’s fluttering hole.

The sound Lou makes, the little “ _ah_ , _ah, AH_ , _”_ when Harry’s fingers find that magic little spot is the prettiest music to his ears,

It becomes increasingly clear who’s in control here when Lou’s the one who sits himself down on Harry’s dick, easy as you please.

The last thing Harry remembers is a soft voice rasping in his ear, “ _Happy fucking birthday_.”

After that, all he has to remember is to keep snapping his hips. Trying to make the sweat-slicked body pressed up against him feel as good as he feels.

The responding gasps and moans are all the encouragement he needs.

There’s literally no way to fuck this up.

*

It’s important to note that no one who’s ever on the urge of blacking out drunk has ever been even the slightest bit aware of it.

In the case of Harry Edward Styles, this is particularly of note.

Because he is a light weight.

This is known to his mother, his father, all of his friends—who often have to carry his giant’s body home on nights out, which they always do because they’re good friends and Harry is a genuinely lovely person.

And his sister, who loves to revel in his misery—she feels like she deserves it after having to listen to him barf his brains out too many times to count.

Gemma Styles has learned never to share a bathroom with your teenage brother.

Harry Styles, as of being eighteen years old, will not learn anything until he is approximately eighteen years and half-a-day old.

When everything goes to hell in a fucking handbasket.

*

Harry Edward Styles is due to start his dream apprenticeship bright and early, the day after his birthday.

February 2nd, he’s had it marked on his puppy calendar for months. Counting the days, going through shiba inus, pugs, and beagles before he finally reaches the welcome sight of a golden retriever puppy clutching a stuffed heart.

Which is why, as the brilliant eighteen-year-old that he is, he decides to get absolutely piss drunk on his birthday.

Sure, he could’ve gone to a nice, quiet dinner with his family, turned in for an early night. Gotten up bright and early for a big breakfast to start himself off right for the day.

But Harry, and his very convincing friends, had been of the mind that he deserved a little fun after working so hard to secure his dream in the first place.

Also, there’s something just a little thrilling about finally being able to legally buy a drink in every club in Manchester.

Every. Single. Club. In. Manchester.

Harry, he has regrets. He hadn’t felt it after his first drink, nor is second. Or the third, fourth, or fifth. Or however many after that that he can’t remember.

But he’s definitely feeling those birthday shots.

For future reference, birthday shots chased by eye-searingly bright rays of morning light will make a man regret everything from his birth to what feels very much like his forthcoming death.

Which is nothing compared to the absolute boulder that drops in his stomach after he checks the time.

What’s worse is that he has no idea where the fuck he is right now.

And the only details from his very hungover brain cells seem to be soft skin, fluffy brown hair, blue eyes, yes good, _wow_ , _happy fucking birthday to me_!

Well that, and the always-present reminder to wear a condom. Mrs. Winstead and her disconcerting close-ups of genital warts would be proud.

Harry might not be going to university but let no one say that an education was wasted on him.

Except maths. Fucking maths, _goddamn_.

For future reference, there is no possible way to condense a twenty-minute drive into the ten minutes you currently have available. Especially if you spend ten more minutes faffing about convinced you’ll remember where your car was parked.

And then ten minutes after that crouched on the sidewalk praying that the Lyft driver that shows up is going to be Speed Racer in-the-flesh.

You’ll start to feel doomed when you see a bright yellow little Fiat pull up. The color will cheer you up while simultaneously making your eye-burning worse. In the driver’s seat will be an eighty-year old man named Lloyd who is a very capable, but cautious driver.

He will spend the next twenty minutes cruising at a sensible pace discussing all manner of inanities from the weather to his desire to give Boris Johnson a kick in the pants right into the Thames, followed by a treat of pie and mash and a plate of jellied eels depending on how large a splash Boris makes.

You will try to give Lloyd your full attention while simultaneously trying to sober the fuck up, obsessively checking your phone for angry messages or missed calls, or a simple “ _You’re fired. Don’t bother coming in_.”

The gnawing, clawing feeling in your stomach is either dread or the onset of acute pancreatitis caused by you drinking your body weight in alcohol. You will, for a moment, hope that it could be the latter.

A trip to A&E will quite possibly be the only legitimate excuse to get you out of this.

Lloyd will get you to your destination in a timely manner that was probably no more than twenty minutes but will have felt like hours coupled with a straight drop off a cliff.

What it means is that Harry shows up over an hour late to his first day of what he’d hoped would be his future profession, and runs straight in.

Thank god the door was a ‘push’ or conking himself out on plate glass would’ve made him even more late.

On the plus side, if he’s already fired, Lloyd had invited him to brunch with his wife Agnes next week. They could probably move it up to sooner then. Maybe Lloyd would be willing to teach him the ins-and-outs of Lyft driving.

*

Harry had expected a lot of things running into Captain Zapper’s.

A few afternoon customers, Perrie at the desk. Zayn, ready to skin him alive.

Like, he’s not ready to be skinned alive but he’d been pretty sure Zayn would’ve been prepared to do it as soon as he rushed in. He’d prefer not to be dead but if he has to choose Harry would like to be a vest.

He hadn’t prayed nightly for a growth spurt for it to all go to waste. Not to mention all those gym days.

More importantly, rather than being plunged into the end of everything he’d worked so hard for, Harry’s met with a completely empty shop, save Perrie.

Who’s currently looking at him like he’s a lunatic.

Maybe it’s because he looks like death warmed over.

Maybe it’s the nervous sweat puddle he’s currently making on the floor.

Maybe it’s the bloodshot eyes, one of which is slightly twitching.

He’d a hundred-percent planned to shower this morning. Planned out an outfit and everything. All those plans had probably gone out the window about four or five drinks in.

“Oh my god, I love your jacket! Where’d you get it?”

Maybe it’s the fact, and he’s just now noticed, that he’s currently wearing a baby pink jacket that’s about two sizes too, too tight.

The jacket Harry’d worn out last night had been painstakingly picked out from a vintage shop in London. Well-worn denim that was ready to live out its second life with Harry on his adventures. He doesn’t know where it’s ended up after last night, but he definitely isn’t wearing it now.

For a split second, he’s proud of how tight the sleeves are on his biceps. Pride is superseded by the overwhelming mortification of self-awareness of how he looks right now.

Harry’s a textbook people-pleaser, has tried to look so cool since making friends with Zayn and everyone in the shop.

Right now, he’s sweaty and wearing a stolen jacket and probably smells like stale alcohol and sex.

Perrie’s squealing and Harry’s soul is quite possibly leaving his worldly body because it’s trying to save him from this mess.

Be cool Harry, be cool. “Ah, just picked it up somewhere. Is Zayn in the back?”

‘Cause if he is, there’s no way in hell Harry’s going back there. Not without witnesses.

“That’s funny, it looks just like one from the latest Fenty Puma collection. But, hun, didn’t you get Zayn’s message? He had a family thing come up, gonna be a bit late coming in today.”

Harry’s followed @dril for years. Today is quite possibly the first time, candle obsession notwithstanding, that he can relate to one of his ridiculous tweets.

He will face god and walk backwards into hell without any regrets if he can get through this huge fucking mess scot-free.

His heart’s pounding as he quickly thumbs open his phone.

Harry’d spent the entire Lyft ride so busy dreading contact from Zayn that he’d literally missed contact from Zayn.

_friend got robbed. gotta go pick him up. gonna be late. soz._

Sent forty minutes ago.

His eye balls really feel like they’re about to fall out of his head right now, “Perrie…I’m gonna go lie down in Zayn’s office. Can you call me when he comes in?”

“Oh sure, Harry. Are you alright, hun? You’re looking a bit sick…”

Harry should feel bad about making Perrie worry but he genuinely can’t feel all his body parts right now.

“Yes, I’m alright, just need a lie down and I’ll be good as new.”

Or at least somewhat functional.

*

It doesn’t feel like his eyes have been closed any longer than five minutes, before the little bell over the door rings and Harry’s hearing voices.

Voices that he’s pretty sure are coming from outside.

There’s Perrie at least, “ _Welcome to Captain Zapper’s, do you have an app—oh my god, what happened?!”_

“ _I got robbed Pezza!”_

Well the voice definitely isn’t Zayn, though it is oddly familiar—high and silvery.

Harry manages to drag himself off the backroom couch. Despite the disastrous beginning of this shit day, he’s ready and willing to learn—to turn his self-made mess around.

After this it’s going to be nights of strictly Netflix and cuddling with the cat.

*

By the time Harry makes it out into the front, Perrie’s whisked the mystery voice off to the back room, and Zayn’s at the desk going through the appointment book.

“Hey, is your friend alright?” Just play it cool, Harry. Things can only go up from this morning.

“Yeah, thanks. We’re gonna go file a police report later. Fucking one-night stands man, I’m not letting him go out alone like that again, ‘s too dangerous. Almost gave me a fucking heart attack. I’m gonna go check on him, yeah?”

“Yeah, it must’ve been scary, good thing you were there, man.”

It’s probably the only thing Harry doesn’t regret about last night, but Zayn’s definitely making him reconsider spending the night with randoms from now on.

_“And he stole my favorite jacket, ‘n my wallet, ‘n…”_

God, whoever it is really sounds crazy familiar. Even over Perrie saying “ _poor wee baby_ ” over and over.

_“Louis, c’mon, the most important thing is you’re safe. You can sleep with me and Liam tonight, yeah?”_

“ _Yeah I guess so…thanks Z.”_ More sniffles.

_“Now c’mon, I wanna introduce you to Harry…”_

*

Zayn comes out the back room, but tucked under his arm is a sniffly little thing with sideswept bangs and tear-swollen eyes.

He’s familiar in a way Harry can’t quite place. His confusion exacerbated by the fact that he might very well be wearing Harry’s as of now no longer missing jacket. Which completely engulfs him.

Zayn’s still got his arm around him, “It’s alright Louis, we’ll gonna file the report later and we can go get lunch, alright?”

“Yeah alright, sorry for making you late.”

He’s calculating his chances of hightailing it out of here and it’s all coming up zero.

 _Fucking maths_.

“Hey Harry, this is my mate Louis, he’s going to be taking over for Perrie for a little bit. Louis this is Harr— “

“Thief!”

Harry had imagined his first day of work as diving right into his dream job. Laughing with Zayn and chatting with Perrie as he got one small step closer of fulfilling his life’s dream.

Instead, he’s standing in the middle of the empty shop, getting _whapped_ by the sleeves of his own jacket while his boss watches.

“My favorite jacket! And is that a sweat stain! What’d you do, run a fookin’ marathon in it or summat? And where’s my wallet!”

 _Whap. Whap. Whap_.

It doesn’t even hurt. It feels like when his cat bats at him for pets.

 _Whap!_ “Hey—,” Harry’s not even fighting back, it wouldn’t be fair going against someone so small.

 _Whap!_ “Look I’m sorry, ok—,” Louis is completely relentless with his smacking.

 _Whap!_ “I think there’s been a misunderstanding—,” It feels like his whole life might be a misunderstanding at this point.

 _Whap!_ “I didn’t take anything on purpose—,” He’d never, not when he’s been wracked by guilt even when he forgets to return borrowed pens.

 _Whap!_ “I rushed out of there and must’ve grabbed this by accident, here!”

Harry’s trying to pull off the jacket and give it back but this boy, _Louis_ , is relentless.

 _Whap. Whap. Whap_.

Louis is breathing hard, huffing like a tired-out kitten. It’s a cat vs. feather wand look.

“C’mon, Lou. This is clearly just a misunderstanding, if you and Harry were doing what I think you two were doing last night. For your jackets to end up on the same floor.”

Ok, so. Harry’s had sex. Ok. All the sex. Sex, he’s had it. It’s obviously just Zayn’s completely blasé tone that’s making his cheeks burn.

Luckily, he’s not the only one, Louis looks like he’s about to combust.

“I-It’s either me or him Zayn! ‘m not gonna work with this wanker!”

“Louis, this is clearly all a misunderstanding. Harry can’t be a thief. I’m pretty sure his mum packed his lunch this morning.”

Fuck. Harry isn’t gonna have lunch. And he’s pretty sure his mum made his favorite. Cheese and pickle sandwiches.

“Me or him Zayn!” This time there’s a huffy stomp and Harry’s reminded of why last night had been such a good birthday. Louis is just like, really, really cute. Even when he’s demanding Zayn fire him.

“Well Louis, seeing as you’re going to be stage-directing small wibbly children in the near future, suffice to say I’m hoping to keep Harry as long as I can,” Zayn doesn’t even blink an eye before he answers.

“Betrayal! I’m telling Liam!” The apples of Louis’ cheeks are so pink now, Harry kind of wants to bite him, or maybe kiss him. Harry definitely didn’t kiss him enough last night.

“Good, let him cuddle you into submission. Can’t be letting you have tantrums in the shop.” The ability to stay so calm around Louis must be something gained from years of exposure.

Louis doesn’t say another word, stays in an angry huff for the rest of the day.

Harry’d been dumb enough to think Zayn’s word was law in his shop, that that’d be the end of it. That they could move forward from this entire mess and maybe develop a good working relationship, maybe even be friends.

Later, he’ll realize how much of an idiot he’d been to think such a thing. Zayn’s decree only made Louis realize that his ire should solely be aimed at Harry.

*

Suffice to say, things did not improve from there.

Harry should have known, nobody who was as lazy in school as him should’ve had such a cushy job.

He’d expected his days to be full of learning, chatting with one of his closest friends, working up to the day he’d have his first official appointment. The day when someone would trust him to permanently change their skin forever.

Instead, he’s spending his days doodling, on paper and bits of leather. While the really very cute receptionist who hates him hogs Zayn all to himself. Glaring at him all the while.

Harry’s long talks with Zayn often involved shared hopes and dreams, goals in live and things like that. They’d spent five hours chatting once, making plans to travel to the Philippines and head up into the mountains to get tattooed by Whang-od. He’s convinced it’d been seventy-five percent in all seriousness. Harry had even looked up the plane fare.

Louis and Zayn on the other hand, chat about all sorts of things. Never tattoos, Louis has been adamant about never getting a tattoo—according to Zayn, he’s quite afraid of needles.

Mostly things that Louis thinks will fluster Harry to be sure, given that he might be perched on Zayn’s lap but he’ll spend an entire conversation glaring at Harry.

“D’you remember the day after my sixteenth birthday?” Harry suspects Louis might really be some eternally ageless fairy because the guy doesn’t look much older than sixteen even now.

“Yeah, you barged in m’room and started yelling about how you didn’t want to stay a virgin forever. And then you threw a bottle of lube at me n’ a pack of condoms and said ‘Let’s get to it mate!’”

“Ok, but remember when you were trying to figure out how to overcome Liam’s magnum dong so I brought you a bottle of lube and fingered you for like 2 hours before your third date?”

“Can’t hold that against me, ‘s not like I didn’t return the favor.”

Harry tries to pretend to be super interested in his doodles.

Later when he looks back on his progress, he’ll see a series of extremely smug looking cartoon cats.

He doesn’t know if anyone would ever want something like that permanently tattooed on their body. But Harry’s not one to judge and now he’s prepared if someone ever does.

*

Harry tries all sorts of things to get into Louis’ good graces. He brews him tea constantly, even though Louis never accepts a cuppa. Offers to buy him lunch, even though going by their interactions Louis has never been hungry in his entire life. Always covers the desk when Louis needs to step out for a minute.

It doesn’t get him anywhere at all.

In a business like this, there’s no way he’s going to make it without the receptionist on his side. He’d be dealing with appointments all jumbled up one after another.

Zayn says Louis would be just mean enough to schedule his appointments five minutes into each other.

It’s almost like he knows this from first-hand experience, and Harry doesn’t really want to know what he’d done to experience Louis’ wrath.

Especially when Louis hadn’t even been the shop’s receptionist at the time.

Now that he is though, he seems to charm every person that walks through the door. Has a smile and a giggle probably for everyone except Harry.

Harry’s getting to understand that man, woman, child, or animal—Louis can get nearly anyone under his spell if he puts his mind to it.

And especially if he’s got a goal in mind.

*

At first glance, Liam and Zayn probably don’t go together. Zayn’s all tattoos and hard angles and bedroom eyes.

While Liam’s so clean cut he almost sparkles, and his hair’s always buzzed neat and tidy. Also, he’d kind of crazy buff and Liam could’ve probably broken him in half clean and easy if Harry hadn’t started working out like crazy six months ago.

Now there’s video of them drunkenly striking poses while Zayn calls out abysmally low scores—Harry’d gotten a two and cried. And only seventy-five percent because of how drunk he was.

Of course, in reality Zayn is soft and squishy on the inside and Liam takes full advantage of it, always dropping by when he can with lunch and walking each other home, “ _Even though we live together, god how cheesy_.” Let it not be said that Zayn isn’t laidback enough to take the piss out of his own mushy relationship.

What’s really mind-boggling is how well Liam and Louis get along. Liam _loves_ Louis. And Harry would’ve thought it was because Louis and Zayn are best friends and Liam just loves Louis by extension, but it turns out Liam met Zayn _through_ Louis.

Apparently, Louis had worked his arse off, _although not literally, thank god_ , getting them together.

Liam had been a little too shy, and Zayn a little too obvious. But Louis has been their relationship mastermind. Terribly flamboyant and a little bit sinister.

Now they’re four years together and happier than ever.

Harry can see that happening, Louis seems to always try his hardest and his best at everything. Going by the way he’s being ignored right now.

The fact of the matter is, Liam absolutely _dotes_ on Louis. Always giving him hugs while Louis looks around very imperiously while jotting down appointments, and carrying him around as much as Louis wants.

Harry doesn’t quite know who he’s more jealous of, Liam or Zayn, or if he’s really jealous of them at all. Maybe it’s just because he’s only eighteen and hasn’t ever had a relationship that’s lasted longer than a year.

Louis on the other hand doesn’t seem to have anything to do but occupying Harry’s every waking thought.

Though really, Harry doesn’t necessarily have a type.

Well, maybe he’s got a little bit of a thing for a nice arse. Brown hair is quite nice too, especially if it’s a bit fluffy and silky at the same time.

Eyes of any color are lovely, though blue eyes make him feel a bit like floating on the clouds looking up at the sky.

And he’d rather like having someone soft to cuddle, protesting with a high little voice like “ _ah, ah, AH, harder—”_

_Fuck._

*

Harry goes home and spends the night debating the pros and cons of being a little bit in love with Louis.

Pros: Very cute, soft, easily convinced to have a cuddle—if Liam or Zayn.

Con: A little bit sinister.

Pro: A little bit sinister?

It’s more than a little confusing. Enough that Harry eventually just rolls over and goes to sleep, resolving to save it for another day.

If only he hadn’t spent the entire night dreaming of Louis wearing his jacket again.

His jacket, and nothing else.

Nobody can know that Harry’s woken up in the middle of the night and had to take care of something, a _few_ times, just to get back to sleep.

He’s just glad that Gemma’s at university. There’d been no one to yell at him for making a mess of the bathroom.

*

Harry’s got a lot of pride, especially in his ability to face things head-on.

So he resolves to learn as much about Louis as possible, because he’s planning to woo the fuck out of him.

About his favorite flowers, the music he likes, about his family, what he eats for breakfast in the morning. What he likes to do when he’s feeling a little sad. Whether he likes sleeping in on Sundays.

It shouldn’t be that hard. He already knows how Louis takes his tea, so in some ways they’re practically married.

He just has to convince Louis to drink a cup.

Maybe beg him.

Maybe beg him, for a…date?

*

Being in love with someone who has no idea and definitely doesn’t love you back is probably the strangest thing. Especially if you knew beforehand that your chances were slim to none.

It isn’t painful. Not the least because Harry’s an eternal optimist. And also, if only because he knows his chances are so low that he really doesn’t have anything left to lose.

Harry spends the next few days trying to get on Louis’ good side, so to speak.

The fact of the matter is that all Louis’ sides are very good, so while Harry isn’t making much leeway with getting Louis to like him, not even the tiniest bit, he is falling more in love with him as the week goes on.

He likes the softness of his hair, the upturn of his nose, the way his mouth quirks when he smiles, and even more when he smirks, the way his eyebrows knit together when he’s talking to a difficult customer.

Harry likes to think of them as his ‘I want to tell you to fuck off but I can’t because Zayn will be cross and I hate when Zayn is mad, Liam frowns at me’ eyebrows. Unbearably cute.

Once Harry offered to help settle the issue for him and Louis half-smiled at him. That was a good day. It had felt like progress.

Louis, on the other hand, seems to think all the cups of tea and bringing him lunch and piggy back rides are all the result of Harry recognizing his dominance.

Which is to say, even eternal optimists start feeling more than a little desperation when they seem to be getting nowhere fast.

Harry resolves to consult the expert at getting Louis to love you even if he started out kind-of sort-of hating you—Liam.

*

“Well, his turn-ons include groveling, the subservience of weaker beings and people buying him cute things. So you’re already two-thirds of the way there. I don’t how you’re going to have him get over the whole stealing from him and traumatizing him thing, but we’ve got time.”

Harry doesn’t know how nonchalant Liam would be if he pointed out that technically Liam’s all the way there and could very well be dating Louis himself based on his obviously flawed scale. But he doesn’t feel like Liam would survive the trauma.

And he really needs Liam to stay alive until he starts giving out some useful advice.

Anyway, Liam is really no help. He spends an hour trying to convince Harry that Louis already does like him a little, when he definitely, definitely doesn’t.

*

The only solution is to go to Zayn. 

Not before checking that everything aboveboard and it’s alright for employees to date each other of course.

Not that he’d been totally willing to sneak around and keep it a secret if it wasn’t.

He completely would. He’d go all-in, climb trellises, set up clandestine meetings. Anything. He’d even build a trellis he could climb up on if need be.

Harry had not done well in woodshop, so he’d have to practice, but he’d definitely do it.

The point is, Harry spends the next weekend getting everything he needs to potentially bribe Zayn into helping him. Including a written affidavit from Liam that this is a good idea.

*

Even when he doesn’t see Louis, Harry spends a lot more of his time, more than he’s willing to admit, thinking about him.

Sure, there’ll be the usual. How Louis is so very cute, how much he wants to give him a cuddle and maybe squeeze his bum a little if that would be ok.

But he also thinks a lot about walking in the park together, cuddling and watching movies, having Louis meet his family. Going abroad on trips together, laying on the beach together under the sun. How much his cat would love Louis.

Sometimes, he even thinks about what would happen if Louis got over his tattoo fears. If Harry was there to help him, make them seem less scary. If he _trusted_ Harry to help him, maybe hold his hand a little (or a lot, Harry’s hands are quite a bit bigger compared to Louis’—it’s very obvious when he’s trying to hand over a tea mug).

Maybe they would be horribly soppy and get matchy-matchy tattoos.

He’s too pitiful.

But whenever he sees Louis, he also knows he’s in too deep to stop.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry seems try everything under the sun to get Louis to notice him.

He answers the phone when Louis is busy doing something else, helps him deal with angry customers. Washes the mugs left in the kitchen sink. Mans the desk so Louis can enjoy his lunch.

He almost thinks he’s making some progress when Louis starts to make small talk, sometimes offers to make him a cuppa when he’s getting one for himself (and everyone else but that’s not important!).

Of course, Zayn has to ruin everything when he points out that Harry isn’t being a chivalrous potential boyfriend-material so much as a good and decent coworker.

Apparently, Louis no longer spends all of his time cajoling Zayn to get rid of him. Hasn’t been since about the first week they met.

_Apparently_ , Louis Tomlinson has never been able to hold a grudge. The closest he’d ever gotten was when Liam let it slip that he was happy that West Brom was doing better than ManU one year. It took him all of two weeks and Liam putting on a Rovers jersey (and getting a matching one for Louis) for Louis to relent, then they’d been all hugs again.

The longstanding point of the matter is that Harry is getting nowhere, and he’s at the end of his rope as to why.

*

Harry spends Saturday morning waxing lyrical about how perfect Louis is, which would normally be fine but for one, simple caveat.

Gemma’s home visiting from uni. Which means that while Harry would usually be left to bemoan his lack of progress with Louis alone and without judgement, after a few hours Gemma has to interject with, “Can I give you some advice, honestly?”

Gemma has been giving her unwanted opinions to and about Harry since the day he was born.

Upon introduction to her newborn baby brother, Gemma had exclaimed, “Oh no mummy, this one’s broken! His face is all red and squashed, can’t we return him?”

Despite the fact that Harry is now eighteen with a jawline that could cut glass, this story still gets recounted at every single one of his birthdays, with no end in sight.

“It just sounds like you’ve made all of these grand plans without actually getting to know him. Harry I know you’re all about these huge gestures but nobody in their right mind gets matching tattoos with someone without even knowing their birthday? I mean do you even know his last name? Or his middle name? Or if he even has one?”

Of course Harry knows Louis last name! It’s Tomlinson. Sometimes Zayn and Liam call him Tommo—Harry hasn’t worked up the courage to try it yet. As for his middle name, well, it must’ve come up at some point when they’ve talked…

Or maybe not, since Harry now realizes he can count on one hand all of the times they’ve had a real conversation.

“You do tend to do this a lot Harry, like you get into your head so much and spend all this time building something up in your head. And I hate to see you disappointed when it doesn’t turn out the way you’ve imagined. I mean, is Louis even single?”

Well yes, Harry knows first-hand that Louis is most definitely single. That being said, has he been going about things all wrong?

The fact of the matter is, Harry, for all the confidence he tries to put forward—he’s still only eighteen and not half as confident and put together as he wishes to be.

Maybe he’s been building up this fantasy of Louis without even trying to get to know the real Louis Tomlinson.

If he’s ruined his chances, he can at least do his best to try to find out his middle name.

*

Come Monday Harry decides to start trying his best to turn things around. Makes his best effort to talk to Louis about things other than work.

Instead of just taking over when Louis is dealing with a difficult customer, he does his best to back him up.

Come Wednesday, it’s apparent that the atmosphere is all wrong in the shop. Zayn and Louis are both oddly subdued, and they haven’t spoken a work more than necessary to each other.

Normally they’d be chatting and squabbling all morning and into the afternoon.

It’s wildly disconcerting.

Harry doesn’t know what to do about it at all.

*

On Thursday, after another day of being in the middle and a little off to the side of the weird silence between Zayn and Louis, Harry is ready to go home and pass out. He needs the sleep to be able to get through more of the same on Friday.

But before he can fall into bed (entirely alone, what a pity), Harry’s phone starts ringing.

It’s Liam, but after their conversation, Harry will contemplate changing the Liam’s contact to “The Savior or All and Everything.”

“So, I’m sure you’ve seen Zayn and Louis acting a little odd lately, right?”

Liam sounds as tired as Harry is of it all.

“Liam, I think we can all agree it’s been fucking weird. I’ve been thinking this might be one of the lesser known signs of the apocalypse.”

Harry listens to Liam laughing over the phone, even though he knows that if Liam had to spend all day with those two in the shop he wouldn’t think it was a laughing matter.

“Louis is mad because we went to see Black Panther together without inviting him. Well not mad, but…”

The gist of it is that Louis isn’t actually mad about not going to see the movie. He’s mad because Liam and Zayn didn’t feel like they could tell him they wanted to go see the movie alone. Louis thinks they’re pitying them like some sad little third-wheel.

“He’s very hurt you see. Thinks he’s being a burden on us, even though you and I both know Zayn would give Louis my kidney faster than I could regrow another one if he asked.”

Harry’s been getting nowhere fast with Louis, but Liam’s just given him an in.

*

After another quiet Friday they’re all getting ready to head home.  It’s the perfect time for Harry to make his move.

Louis just getting ready to put on his coat, and Harry is just getting ready to very smoothly, very casually ask him out to see the movie, which he’s already bought tickets to because he’s an eternal optimist.

What he actually does is blurts out, “Cinema! With me?!”

He knows he’s fucked up when the room’s still echoing with his shout.

Louis’ looking at him all wide-eyed like he doesn’t really know what’s happening right now.

Harry doesn’t really know either but he’s going to run with it, “So, um, do you want to come see Black Panther with me? Heard it’s fucking amazing…”

This is the first-time Louis has smiled at him. Like, a real smile. Not his ‘customer service’ smile or his ‘I’m gonna fuck you up just you wait’ smile he’d given Harry the first few days after their disastrous first day.

A real smile.

If Harry wasn’t absolutely fucking smitten before there’s no turning back for him now.

His heart’s been signed, sealed, and stamped with ‘Louis’ when he gets a “Yes.”

Harry doesn’t think it’s presumptuous to put a long line of hearts after Louis name when he saves his number. 

*

A movie had turned into dinner. And then lunch and dinner again the next day. They’d needed to eat, needed the energy after hours and hours of talking.

His favorite color’s red. Louis loves comic books and football and babysitting his siblings. He’s studying drama at uni but only taking night classes—it’s why he can help out Zayn while Perrie’s gone traveling. He calls his mum every day but sometimes more—lately because he’s met this absolutely infuriating guy at work.

His name’s Louis William Tomlinson and he lets Harry hold his hand whenever he likes.

It’s why come Monday, Harry is almost disappointed when Louis comes in and makes a bee-line for Zayn. 

He listens as Louis and Zayn gush over Black Panther and make plans to see it again together.

Come lunchtime Harry sits down to eat his sandwich alone, never mind that he’d brought along one extra for someone else. Harry can eat it later, also alone.

Of course, Louis has to choose that moment to just sit himself on Harry’s lap, easy as you please. Like it’s where he belongs and has always been.

Zayn’s sitting down opposite him with his own lunch, while Louis is grabbing Harry’s arm to direct their sandwich into his mouth.

The other’s wrapped around his waist.

The feeling goes above and beyond all Harry’s expectations.

*

It takes two years for Harry to convince Louis that tattoos aren’t so scary.

He considers it time well spent the first time Louis lays down on his table, Liam and Zayn holding his hands on either side.

The sign’s flipped on the door, they’d closed early for the momentous occasion.

Gently, gently, he stops every time Louis gives so much as a hiss or a whimper. Calms him down with kisses until Louis stops trembling.

After the better part of four hours, Louis comes out the other side pink-cheeked and sweating, but with two matching hearts on his hips, ‘HES’ inscribed in both. Exactly where Harry's hands always gravitate. Harry makes sure to wrap them up well, and gives him a kiss on each for being so brave.

They’re gonna heal up so well. And when they do they’ll be a perfect match for the one Harry’s got on his chest, courtesy of Zayn, ‘LWT’ right over his own heart.

Also, he definitely has a boner but all he’s gonna do when he gets Louis home is cuddle him until he falls asleep.

Because Louis isn’t his one-night stand. They’re _boyfriends_.

It’s pretty fucking great.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't think I did enough to show how Harry's fallen in love with Louis, probably because I can't imagine them not just ~being~ in love.
> 
> Sorry for not including much about tattoos. I will confess that since this is an au not all of them would really fit in this universe, so I tried to make do. One can imagine that they'll live long and happy lives in this universe with many memories that get etched on their skin. 
> 
> Hearts are a pretty strong running theme with them anyway. And we can't prove that Louis doesn't have hearts on his hips now can we?


End file.
